


Somewhere Old, Someone New

by Cuppa_tea_love



Series: Operation Thanksgiving Extras [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuppa_tea_love/pseuds/Cuppa_tea_love
Summary: In chapters 2 and 5 of "Operation Thanksgiving", Peggy alluded to a trip she and Daniel took to Europe to hunt down a lead on Michael, stopping over with her parents on the way.  This is a little snapshot of that trip.





	Somewhere Old, Someone New

**Author's Note:**

> You could technically read this without having read "Operation Thanksgiving", but it will make a lot more sense if you do.

_Hampstead, September 1948_   

The streets and houses of Hampstead looked smaller than Peggy remembered them as she drove her mother towards central London.  There was the little local church she’d attended, the heath, the tiny winding lanes which she knew like the back of her hand. It felt like home, and yet she didn’t belong here anymore.  She swallowed hard as the enormity hit her of the choice she was about to make, leaving this part of her life behind forever. She hadn’t exactly pined for it in the last few years, but always in the back of her mind she’d thought she could return some day, that Hampstead would be waiting for her when her adventures were over.  But she’d come to realise that choice had really been made nearly a decade ago, by a war, by a grief, by a love, which had drawn her into a different world. All three had passed now in one way or another, but the changes they’d wrought upon her life and her heart were indelible.

She thought of Daniel — steadfast and strong, fearless and devoted — and knew she wouldn’t look back.  

“I’m so glad that you have time for a trip to Selfridge’s while you’re here, my dear,” said Amanda Carter.  “It seems an age since we went in together. Is there anything you’re looking for?”

“Not particularly,” said Peggy.  “It’ll just be nice to see the place again.  I can browse around the accessories and cosmetics.  Anything I don’t need a ration book for.”

“It’s simply disgraceful that a British-born citizen can’t shop for clothes in her own country,” said Mrs Carter with conviction.  “They’ve written you off as a foreigner after just three years.”

“It’s fine, Mum ” said Peggy.  “I’m not in desperate need of anything.”  Truth be told, she would feel bad taking precious resources from her home country, when she could get everything she needed far more easily back in America.  She’d had a bit of a shock seeing how much Britain was still struggling in the wake of the war. Everybody looked well put-together, but clothes were patched and worn and tired, and the effect this had on the overall landscape was like a thin grey film hanging over all of life.  Coming from the vibrant sunshine and glamour of California, it was especially noticeable. It was like stepping back in time four or five years to the depths of the war.

“It’s brave of you, leaving Daniel at home with your father,” Mrs Carter was saying with a smile.  “What do you think they’ll find to talk about?”

“Well, actually,” said Peggy, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she sensed an opening to convey the news she’d been sitting on, “Daniel asked me to.   He wanted to talk to Dad.”

She felt her mother’s sharp intake of breath.  “Really? And why is that?”

Peggy felt flustered.  “Well, it’s already all decided, really, and he asked me back in May, but Daniel likes to do things properly,” she said, all in a gush.  Why was this so hard?

“Peggy, dear, just say it!” said her mother.  “You’re engaged?”

“We are,” said Peggy with a shy smile.  “I hope you’re not disappointed. I know you never wanted me to move to America, and this does make it rather permanent.”  For goodness’ sake, she could stare down hardened criminals with more composure than she was exhibiting right now.

Mrs Carter sighed. “I can’t deny that we’ve been rather afraid it would happen eventually,” she said.  “But, my dear, we are both very impressed by him. We could tell as soon as you arrived here that it was going that way.”

Peggy didn’t really know what to say to that.  It might have been nice to hear that her mother was happy for her, but a lack of outright disapproval wasn’t nothing.  They drove in silence for a few minutes.

“You said he asked you in May,” said Mrs Carter.  “Could you not have telephoned us? Or written?”

Peggy took a deep breath.  “The thing is, Mum... you can’t tell anyone.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“We’re getting married in secret.  No veils or bridesmaids or anything that looks overtly like a wedding.  I know it sounds dramatic, but we can’t let anyone know about it until it’s all over.”

“Oh, Peggy, really!” exclaimed Mrs Carter.  “This is quite absurd. Why wouldn’t you want all your friends to know?  Are you ashamed?”

“What?  Of course not!” said Peggy through gritted teeth, wondering how she could explain.  “Look, you know Daniel works for the American government. There are...people...who would like to use his wedding against him.  That’s all I can say.”

“I don’t understand, Peggy.”

“I know, Mum.  Please, you must trust me.  Only you and Dad can know — you mustn’t even tell your friends.”  She felt wretched. “I hate to ask, but the alternative was not telling you until afterwards, either, and I couldn’t do that to you.”  She glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. “Think of me like just another war-time bride: it wasn’t so long ago that everyone was throwing together weddings while they were on leave, with no notice and no time to get all their friends together, remember?”

Mrs Carter was silent for a moment.  After a while, she said, “You know, Anne Goodman’s daughter got married recently, and instead of a veil she just wore a white hat.  It seems to be what a lot of the girls are doing at the moment. Perhaps something like that might be suitable?”

Peggy breathed a sigh of relief.  “That’s a wonderful idea, Mum. Thank you.”

***  

Walking into Selfridge’s, Peggy was immediately transported back to her childhood.  She used to come here as a little girl, holding tightly to her mother’s hand, gazing in wide-eyed fascination at the colourful displays and the glamorous ladies.  She would listen to her mother’s heels click delightfully on the wooden floor as she wandered from counter to counter, sampling the perfumes and cosmetics. If she was very lucky, a nice lady might give her some of the sweet-smelling creams to rub into her skin.  The scent of roses or violets would waft after her all day, making her feel like a grown-up. Later, as she would rough-and-tumble with Michael at home, he would screw up his nose and laugh at her for it, but she didn’t care. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t feel beautiful _and_ have adventures in the back garden.  

Now she really was a grown-up and her own heels were clicking on the floor.  The two women browsed the cosmetics, and Peggy purchased two pots of her favourite hand cream.  When she asked the girl behind the counter if she could pay in American Dollars, the girl’s eyes widened, and before Peggy knew it the floor manager himself appeared from nowhere to hand her her wrapped package, shake her hand and offer to escort her personally to any other departments she might wish to visit.  Peggy declined in amusement, but the incident quite cured her of her fear that shopping here would hurt the local economy.

They wandered towards the dressmaking department, Peggy curious to see what the girls here had available to them.  America had well and truly embraced the end of rationing by celebrating any and all little luxuries that were now available to them again, and nowhere was this spirit more prevalent than in California.  Even Ana was always raving about the New Look, and trying to get Peggy to wear the romantic full, gathered skirts, but Peggy just wasn’t drawn to them. Looking at the dresses on display here, she felt more at home.  They were much more utilitarian and restrained, due no doubt to the fabric rationing that was still in effect. Simple A-lines and elegant pleats were the prevailing styles, although the colours were also a little drab for Peggy’s taste.  Perhaps she was now a sort of hybrid creature, with a British disdain for excess, coupled with a love for vibrancy that was pure Hollywood.

“Peggy,” said her mother suddenly, breaking her reverie, “I want to buy you a dress.  You know” — she looked over her shoulder and whispered with what she obviously thought was impressive subtlety — “a _white_ dress.  Unless you already have something planned?”

“Oh, no, Mum, you can’t,” insisted Peggy.  “That would use up half your ration. How many points is it for a dress nowadays?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” said Mrs Carter.  “I have frocks enough to last me for a while. Anyhow, everybody is saying that the rationing can’t possibly last another year.  It’s getting positively absurd. Please, I’d very much like to do this together. It’s the least a mother can do. And I’d love to think you had something from home.”

Peggy bit her lip thoughtfully.  Ana might be disappointed not to be asked to make the dress, but Peggy was sure she would understand.  Then there were the practicalities of ordering a dress in London. “Well, I don’t know how long we’ll be visiting our friends on the continent, but I can’t imagine it would be less than a fortnight, so I suppose I could pick it up when we’re passing through again.  Oh, Mum, are you sure?”

“Perfectly,” Mrs Carter assured her.

“Just a simple day dress,” said Peggy quickly.  “Nothing too obvious.”

Feeling strangely shy and a little excited, Peggy browsed the fabrics.  Something not too formal, but not too plain, either. The selection truly was limited compared to what she could get in the States, but she’d never cared for satin or lace in abundance, anyhow.  Finally her mother called her to look at a white cotton eyelet fabric. It wasn’t too lacy, the design falling into simple stripes, but her mother showed her how they could underlay it with a subtle colour, so that it broke up the white a little bit and made it pass for a nice day dress.  The effect was softer than her usual look, but that was probably no bad thing. It was perfect.

They took the roll of fabric to a mirror and Peggy draped it around her.  Mrs Carter chatted to the dressmaker about the sort of neckline that would best flatter her figure, and Peggy just let her have free reign and be in her element.  It was the least she could do after springing all this on her, though she did intervene occasionally when anything too frilly or puffy was suggested. While the dressmaker was writing down the details and measurements, she caught sight of her mother looking at her in the mirror, wrapped in white, and saw the older woman’s eyes brimming with tears.  She was remembering another day, another wedding frock, and a telegram that changed their lives forever.

Peggy looked away.  She couldn’t tell her parents why they had really come to Europe.  She wondered if Michael came here often, if he drove out to Hampstead and watched their parents drinking tea in the garden, reassuring himself that they were still well.  Did he know that their father wasn’t, in fact, very well? Did he see that the grief of losing a child weighed on them both every single day? She felt the familiar storm of rage in the pit of her stomach at what he had put them all through, the burning desire to know why, followed swiftly by the earnest wish just to see him and sob into his arms that all was forgiven.  

They emerged from Selfridge’s an hour later with the frock and a hat ordered, Peggy feeling a powerful rush of affection towards her mother, and sadness that Mrs Carter wouldn’t get the pleasure of helping her daughter set up house.  Though that was pure sentiment talking, she chided herself. In reality, they would drive each other to distraction if her mother had to witness her lacklustre attempts at housekeeping. She loved her mother, but she loved her best in small doses.

“Mum?” Peggy once they were back in the car, “What happened to my other wedding dress?  I know I told you to get rid of it, but I’m sure you wouldn’t have just thrown away all that fabric.  I never liked to ask.”

“I gave it to Susan Parker from the WI for her daughter Ellen’s wedding,” said Mrs Carter with a smile.  “She’s a similar size to you, so it didn’t need much adjusting. Then her second daughter, Lizzie, used it in ’43 for _her_ wedding, but she reworked the skirt completely into a shorter style and used the train for a christening gown for Ellen’s baby.  I believe Lizzie passed it on to another friend, but beyond that I don’t know what became of it. It could be in Scotland by now, for all we know.”

***   

On the last night of their stay in England, Mrs Carter called Peggy into her bedroom.  She opened her jewellery box and pulled out an ornate Victorian pearl necklace.

“I thought you might like Great Aunt Margaret’s pearls for your wedding day,” she said, adding hurriedly, “I know they’re terribly old-fashioned, but I thought you could have them re-strung in a more modern style.  You might even be able to get a bracelet out of it as well. I thought of having it done for you, but” — she looked self-consciously at her daughter — “you have such a confident sense of style, my dear. And you’ve always danced to your own tune.”  She placed the pearls in Peggy’s hand. “They are yours to do with as you wish. You will make a beautiful bride.”

Peggy ran the strings of pearls through her fingers, tracing the heavy metal fixings.  Her own family heirloom, to make into something new. She smiled. “Thanks, Mum.”

**Author's Note:**

> At this stage, Mrs Carter would have 24 clothes ration coupons per year, of which a dress would cost her between 7 and 11. So this is quite a gift! 
> 
> Clothes rationing in Britain ended 8 months later, in May 1949. It was getting impossible to police it, as the black market was running absolutely rampant with forged coupons, so in the end they just gave it up. Food rationing continued in some form or other until 1954.
> 
> As visitors, Peggy & Daniel would have been issued with food coupons for the duration of their stay, but I couldn't find any information about clothes rations for visitors. For such a short stay, however, I can't imagine that they would have been given any allowance, as the coupons were issued monthly.


End file.
